


Obligate Parasites

by planbdanceroutine



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, M/M, Merry Christmas everybody, Mistletoe, it's always christmas in philadelphia, trigger warnings in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planbdanceroutine/pseuds/planbdanceroutine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennis must mistake Mac’s confusion for disinterest because he pulls away (Mac misses him immediately) and takes a step back, keeping his hands at the back of Mac’s neck, leaving bruises that Mac will find the next morning. He’s breathing loudly, and he’s staring at Mac but not quite, won’t look him in the eyes. There’s so much Mac wants to say, wants to-</p>
<p>       “Do something,” Dennis orders. Dennis pleads. Dennis is weak, and Mac hates weakness, but loves the way it wears on Dennis’ face. </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>These are the Christmases they don't talk about.</p>
<p>"Merry Christmas, Mac."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obligate Parasites

**Author's Note:**

> aka the mistletoe fic that no one asked for. This is probably not canon-compliant, especially with the Christmas episode. This is the first time I've written anything with trigger warnings, so let me know if I've forgotten anything. Trigger warnings: alcoholism, depression, mental illness, Dennis' views on relationships, mild Frank. You know, the normal stuff for the show.

7.1

At thirty-five years old, Mac and Dennis have lived together long enough that they have certain routines about the way they do things. For example, every year at Christmas they decorate the apartment together using the same ornaments they bought the first year they moved in and they realized that fuck, they were adults now, and they needed to buy their own decorations. So Mac knows that neither he nor Dennis put up any mistletoe.

Yet there it hangs in their doorway, hastily hung up with Scotch tape. They don’t even own Scotch tape.

“Yeah, Frank put that up,” Charlie says, appearing at Mac’s side in the kitchen. 

“Yes,” Mac says, “but why?”

Charlie shrugs, grabbing some cheese from a tray that also isn't theirs. Must be Dee’s. “He said something about scoring chicks, and you know, I tried to explain to him that it was only gonna be the five of us, but you know how Frank gets.”

“Okay,” Mac allows, “but why didn't he take it down when he realized there weren't any chicks here?”

“Here’s the thing,” Charlie says, mouth full of cheese, “Dee got here pretty much just when Frank was done taping the mistletoe up and we somehow ended up going through the door at the same time and Dee was like ‘Hey, is that mistletoe?’ and I was like ‘I guess we have to kiss now, huh, Dee?’ and she said ‘We really don’t have to, Charlie’ and I said ‘C’mon Dee we got to it’s tradition’ so we kissed and it wasn't that bad, even if Dee’s lips were kind of sticky. Anyway, then Frank tried to get Dee to kiss him and she was like ‘You’re my dad’ and he said ‘Not really’ and then she stormed off to talk to Dennis and Frank left to find girls he wasn’t sort of related to.”

“You kissed Dee?” Mac asks, trying to work through the story in his head.

Charlie shrugs again. “I mean, it’s not the first time.”

“Yeah,” Mac says, “I’ll never understand this weird thing you have with Dee.”

“It’s not even that weird, man,” Charlie says, squeaking. “Sometimes we just hang out without you guys and a few times that’s led to kissing. I don’t see how it’s any different than you an’ Dennis.”

“Because Dennis and I just hang out,” Mac explains. “There’s no kissing.”

“I mean, there was that one time,” Charlie says.

Mac takes a deep breath. “You mean that one time you’re not supposed to know about?”

“Dee told me.”

“Of fucking course Dee knew. Course she did,” Mac says, throwing up his hands.

“Knew what?” Dee asks, and when Mac turns to face her both the Reynolds twins are staring back at him, curious. Of course they are.

“About this stupid mistletoe,” Mac says, gesturing, “hanging from our door. C’mon Dee, you couldn’t take it down when you came in, seriously?”

Dee narrows her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s my responsibility, seeing as this isn’t my apartment and Frank isn’t _really_ my father.”

“And he’s not mine, either, honestly you guys,” Charlie says.

“No one said he was!” Mac shouts.

Dennis glances between Dee and Mac and Charlie. “So where did the mistletoe come from?”

“Frank,” Mac says, and when Charlie opens his mouth to speak he adds, “It’s not really that important right now.”

“Well is he going to take it down then?” Dennis asks, eyeing the offending clump of berries.

Charlie shakes his head. “Frank left to find some chicks.”

“Uh huh,” Dennis says, nodding, “and he thought that, originally, he was going to find chicks here? On Christmas Eve. With just the five of us.”

Charlie shakes his head. “You know Frank, man.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Dennis huffs, “considering he’s my father and I only lived with the man for about, oh, eighteen or so years.”

“Okay, fine,” Mac says, “just calm down Dennis, alright?”

Dennis takes a deep breath. “I am being nothing if not calm, okay, Mac? Just someone take it down, alright? It doesn’t really fit in with the theme of the décor.”

“Are you sure?” Dee asks. “I mean, the theme of the décor is Christmas, and mistletoe is a pretty big Christmas thing. A tradition, even. Kind of famous for it.”

Dennis sighs. “Fine, yeah, but look at it. It’s tacky.”

“And the rest of your stuff isn’t?”

Mac holds up a hand. “You know what? I’ll take it down, if it’s bothering you so much.”

“It’s not bothering me,” Dennis says. “If anything I think it’s bothering you, Mac. You were the one who wanted it down in the first place.”

“Yeah, Dennis,” Mac agrees, “but I’m not the one getting so worked up about it.”

“Yeah, are you feeling alright?” Charlie asks. “You’re all red and sweaty.”

Dennis tilts his head and squints at Charlie. “Aren’t you the one that’s all red and sweaty? You got the cheese sweats going on there, Charlie?”

“Okay, leave Charlie alone, Dennis,” Dee says. “Just because the mistletoe has you feeling awkward doesn’t mean you can-”

“Feeling awkward?” Dennis asks. “Dee, it’s not bothering me. Leave it up, for all I care. But let’s get something straight, here. I haven’t felt anything for the last twenty years, okay Dee? I haven’t had feelings since I was fourteen, and a little bit of mistletoe isn’t going to change that.”

As Dee throws up her hands in surrender, Mac can’t help but think to himself about how fucking convenient it is that Dennis stopped having feelings the year before the two of them starting hanging out together.

How fucking convenient.

1.1

Mac is fifteen and is sitting on Dennis’ bed in Dennis’ bedroom watching Dennis throw clothes and shit out of Dennis’ closet. Mac is fifteen and has only known Dennis for a couple of months and already he’s gotten himself involved in one of Dennis’ stupid plans. “No offence, dude, but this is a terrible plan.”

“Okay, first,” Dennis says while searching through his closet, “offence taken, and second, no it’s not.”

Mac’s legs hang over the side of Dennis’ enormous bed so he starts swinging them back and forth like he’s a little kid again. Feels like a little kid anyway, when Dennis uses that tone of voice with him. “Sure, Dennis. You wanna walk me through the plan again?”

“Alright, so you and Charlie come over to my house so you guys can keep us company while we have to suffer through another one of Frank’s Christmas business parties. That’s checked off, already. Now Dee and I are going to find Charlie and you something to wear so you can blend in a little more with everyone else. You think this will fit you?” he asks, holding up a shirt.

Mac’s pretty sure it’ll fit, but he also doesn’t want to be wearing orange and purple stripes all night. “Nah, man. I got these long arms, you know. And that’s not the part of the plan I’m having trouble with. I’m having trouble with the part where Charlie and I have to sneak out your back door when Frank and Barbara get here and then go knock on your front door so we can come back inside.”

Dennis throws the orange and purple shirt aside and reaches into the top of his closet for a new one. “You guys are sneaking out the back door so Frank and Barbara don’t know you guys have been hanging out here all day getting ready.”

“I still don’t see how that’s a bad thing for them to know, though,” Mac says, turning down another (coral, seriously, _fuck_ Dennis) shirt Dennis offers him.

“Because Frank and Barbara were told you were coming over at 6:30, and this way when they open the door for you guys and don’t see anyone dropping you off they’ll just assume you walked over from your houses in some other part of the neighborhood.”

Mac sighs. “Does it really matter if we’re not from the same neighborhood?”

“To Frank and Barbara, yes.” Dennis finally stops tugging at the box in his closet that he’s been struggling with. “You wanna help me with this?”

“Yeah, sure,” Mac says, swinging himself up and off of Dennis’ bed so together they can lift down the (ridiculously heavy) cardboard box of clothes that Dennis apparently keeps hidden away in his closet for some reason.

Once they’ve moved it over to the bed Dennis opens it up and rummages through it until he pulls out a blue sweater from near the bottom. “How about this?"

The sweater looks like the softest piece of clothing that Mac has ever seen, and he knows immediately that this is what he wants to wear to the party, possibly what he wants to wear for the rest of his life. “It’s fine, Dennis,” he says, trying to play it off coolly, grabs for it entirely too fast to really sell the whole cool thing but Mac just wants to put it on and feel it against his skin.

“Not-really-my-Aunt Wanda gave that to me for Christmas last year. See how it matches my eyes? Perfect cornflower blue. She always did have a weird thing for me,” Dennis muses. “But I don’t think Frank and Barbara saw me open it, so I think it’s safe for you to wear.” 

Mac slips his own shirt over his head and puts on Dennis’ sweater which feels even softer than it looks. He rubs the pads of his thumbs over and over against the fabric at his hips, loving the way it feels against his skin. “Well, it fits.”

“Perfectly,” Dennis says, and when Mac looks up at him he recognizes the look on Dennis’ face. It’s the same look that he gets when one of his plans goes, well, according to plan. Like Dennis wanted him to wear this shirt, and was just showing him a bunch of dud shirts beforehand to make him more willing to comply. Bastard. And yet, like most of Dennis’ plans, Mac doesn’t fully understand the motive. “C’mon, let’s go see if Charlie and Dee are ready.”

“Probably not,” Mac laughs. “Like I’m pretty sure Charlie didn’t shower for a week just so he could piss Dee off.” 

Dennis hums, crowds Mac towards the door. “Yeah, she’s probably started pulling out her hair already.”

“Can she even reach her hair properly with that brace on?” Mac asks as he reaches for the door handle. When he tries to open the door though, he feels something catch against the top of the door. Looking up, he asks, “Hey Den, isn’t that mistletoe?”

When Mac turns around to get an answer he finds Dennis crowded into his space. Dennis leans forward even further so that their thighs are touching as Dennis moves to close the door with an audible click. “Do you remember what we learned about in biology?”

Right now, pressing against Dennis’ body, Mac can remember a lot of things they learned in biology that he doesn’t want to think about.

“About mistletoe?” Dennis prompts, and when Mac doesn’t answer he continues with, “Remember how Mr. Strauss said they were obligate parasites that had to feed off of other plants to survive? How he said that it wasn’t romantic at all, actually?”

Mac does remember, actually. “Yeah, last class before break. I remember.”

“Don’t you think he was wrong?” Dennis asks, pushing Mac completely up against his door. “What’s more romantic than someone giving every part of themselves away so that someone else can get what they need?”

“Jesus Christ, Dennis,” Mac says. “There’s nothing even remotely romantic about that at all, fuck. That’s so fucking unhealthy.”

Dennis smirks. “We’ll agree to disagree,” he says, bracketing Mac against the door with his hands. “Now, are you willing to take what I’m giving?”

Mac doesn’t even have time to agree or disagree. As Dennis comes closer all that’s on his mind is how blue Dennis’ eyes actually are. Cornflower blue. Just like not-really-Aunt-Wanda’s sweater. Fuck, was that supposed to be significant?

Dennis leans in-

(And here’s where they start keeping a list of Christmases they don’t talk about.)

2\. and 3. 

During the Christmases where Dennis is in college and where Mac progresses from small-time drug dealer to certified deadbeat, they go from light conversation to radio silence.

The thing is: Dennis is struggling in college. He’s not as popular as he thinks he is, Mac can tell by the way Dennis always calls when he’s at some party because he’s always by himself. Mac knows that he’s calling to look a little less awkward, a little more preoccupied. Mac knows that there are girls- Dennis calls whenever he’s had a spectacular lay that he thinks Mac should hear about- but there are never girls that stay the night on Christmas. Dennis is too wasted. Dennis is too busy trying to string together a few sentences to shout at Mac over the phone. Dennis is trying to act like he’s doing better than he is. 

The thing is: Mac is struggling without Dennis. So he’ll let Dennis pretend that everything is fine if it means that Dennis stays on the phone with him instead of getting another drink without him. Mac may be Dennis’ safety blanket, but _fuck_ , Dennis is Mac’s religion.

Dennis’ first Christmas at college, in the dorms, isn’t all that terrible for Mac. He hangs out at Charlie’s and only gets a little buzzed so that he’ll be able to answer Dennis’ promised call. Sure enough, Dennis calls at 11:58 (“It’s still Christmas, baby. What’d I say Mac?” Dennis slurs) after Charlie is already passed out on the pull-out couch and Mac has had to refuse repeated offers of cookies from Charlie’s mother. Talking to Dennis seems normal, just like any other day when Dennis calls drunk and starts talking on and on about something (his frat) or someone (Amanda, Chloe, Amber, Mel, Christina, etc.) 

Except Dennis starts to forget what he was talking about. A story about Amber turns into a story about Maureen and Dennis treats them like they’re the same person even though Dennis cleansed himself of Maureen years ago. “How much have you had to drink?” Mac asks, laughing. “Seriously, man. How much?”

“Half a case of beer,” Dennis says, after a minute. That’s fine, normal, expected. That’s Dennis on a Friday afternoon. “Also some of that eggnog shit. They’re serving it like punch, man. Never had eggnog so good.”

“You know that shit has alcohol in it, right Dennis? How much did you drink?” Mac hears bass in the background, can hear the music loud enough that he can tell what song is playing. Can still hear Dennis giggling into his phone.

“Just whatever people have been giving me. The frat, you know. Maureen.”

“Amber,” Mac corrects. 

Dennis laughs. “Her too. Thinks she likes me, kissed me under the mistletoe. Was the only one.”

Mac laughs. “Good for you, buddy.”

Dennis laughs, too. “Is it? Look, the guys are tagging me off for something. Gotta go now. Merry Christmas, Mac.” 

Dennis doesn’t remember their conversation the next day when Mac checks in. Mac starts checking in every week, just to be careful. Starts praying to his other God again, too, for the same reason.

The last Christmas Dennis spends at college, Dennis calls pretty early, or at least early enough that Charlie is still awake on the couch in the basement and Mac almost ignores the call because Dennis has made a habit of calling later and later on Christmas. 

“Mac,” Dennis says. 

“Hey Dennis, Merry Christmas!” Mac greets, relieved it’s not the supplier he’s been avoiding. 

Charlie perks up on the couch. “Shit man, is that _Dennis_? Say hi to that asshole for me. Actually, I’ll do it. Give me the phone. Gimme.”

“Charlie says hi,” Mac relays, getting up off the couch to avoid Charlie as he grabs for the phone. 

“Mac,” Dennis repeats, his voice cracking, and it sobers Mac up so fast his stomach drops.

“Just a second, okay?” he asks Dennis, gesturing to Charlie to let him know he’s going outside. The second he’s outside he asks, “Shit, Dennis, are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? Where are you right now?”

“’M outside,” Dennis mumbles, mouth probably too close to the phone. 

“Outside where?” Mac asks, trying to find the keys to his mom’s car in his pockets. “I can be anywhere in thirty minutes, Den, you just gotta let me know where you are.”  
Dennis sighs into the phone. “Mac,” he says, wetly, “just stay on the phone. Please.”

“Sure, of course,” Mac says, sitting down on Charlie’s steps. “Where are you, anyway?”

Dennis doesn’t answer, but Mac can still hear Dennis breathing through the phone, and that’s really all the reassurance that Mac needs right now. He’s still worried, but he can hear soft music and a door open every so often through the phone, so he hopes there’s at least enough people around that if something happened to Dennis someone would notice.

Twenty minutes passes, and Mac’s freezing, wonders if Dennis is freezing too or if he thought to put on a jacket. As Mac’s straining to hear for the people in the background, he hears it, hears Dennis clear his throat. “Dennis?” Mac asks, “You there?”

“Merry Christmas, Mac,” Dennis says, finally. 

“Dennis-”

“I miss you,” Dennis says. Hangs up.

“ _Goddammit_ Dennis!” Mac shouts. He’s so angry, so worried, he wants to do something, wants to throw his phone, wants to get in his mom’s car and drive all over the city until he finds Dennis’ party, but he settles for slamming his flip-phone shut and heading back inside.

Charlie’s still up and stretched out on the couch where Mac left him, playing some sort of video game. “How’s Dennis?”

“He’s fine,” Mac lies. “You know how college is.”

“Ha, yeah,” Charlie replies, distracted. “Wanna help me bash some guys?”

Mac doesn’t really want to, but he also doesn’t really want to spend the night worrying about Dennis either. “Sure, whatever,” he says, taking a controller. “No, I’m not being fucking Luigi man, I swear to God.”

Dennis can’t remember even calling him.

Mac starts checking in every day. Starts praying more. Can’t hurt.

4\. and 5.

The year they turn twenty-five is a difficult year for Dennis, for no particular reason that anyone can think of. 

“He’s depressed, you fucking boneheads,” Dee says, but even she can’t exactly pinpoint why. “Quarter-life crisis, maybe?”

Charlie shakes his head. “Maybe it’s because, I dunno, we’re all massively in debt and we’re not making enough money to even cover our bills most days?” They shoot that down pretty quickly, though, since Paddy’s has been kind of a loss-leader since they purchased it on a whim three years ago.

Mac’s theory, which he keeps to himself, is that it’s because Dennis has been facing failure after failure after failure since high school. He struck out in college- couldn’t get into veterinary school, couldn’t get a job, couldn’t hold down a steady girlfriend. Hell, Mac is used to failing at just about everything and even he thinks that all of that could break him.

But none of their theories really matter, because that’s not the point.

The point is: Dennis has times where he’ll sit on their couch for weeks without moving. The point is: Dennis has times where he’ll buy something stupid and expensive for the bar because he thinks it will make them more money. It doesn’t. It never does. The point is: Dennis isn’t Dennis anymore.

Dennis loses massive amounts of weight because he can’t taste anything anymore, is too bored to even chew his food, and so he doesn’t eat. He switches to a liquid diet, drinks his calories in either juice or liquor, and can’t keep most of down at the end of the night anyway. 

He smiles more often, too. Like he knows that he isn’t smiling enough genuinely so he tries to overcompensate. He starts combing his hair differently to hide where his hair is falling out in clumps, tries to fish hair out of their bathroom sink before Mac can see it, but he’s terrible at hiding it. He goes down two jean sizes. He wears long-sleeved shirts year round to hide the bruises that starting appearing more often on his skin. 

For some stupid reason, Mac thought Christmas might be different. Mac really thought that Christmas might be enough to bring Dennis out from his depression once they put up the decorations and gave gifts and ate Christmas dinner.

Instead, Dennis watches Mac do all those things by himself from his spot on the couch. He doesn’t say anything, not even when Mac forcibly drags him to the table and makes him try a little bit of everything he made. Mac went all out, too, making ham and turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing, green beans and potatoes and pies with homemade whipped cream. But Dennis just pushes it all around on his plate, eats a few bites here and there and retches, before getting up to go to bed. “Merry Christmas, Mac,” he says. More than he’s said all week.

“Goddammit, Dennis,” Mac says, quietly, alone at the table. And not for the first time in his life, Mac says a prayer for Dennis. Prays that next Christmas will be better. Prays that Dennis will make it to next Christmas.

(Amen.)

Over the next year Dennis gets- not well, exactly, because Dee assures him that Dennis is still depressed but just learning to cope with it- but better than he was before. He gains weight back when he starts eating again. Learns to laugh again, even if it still surprises him every time he does it. 

Mac is leaving to get their groceries for Christmas dinner when Dennis asks, “Are you going make all the same stuff you did-” and trails off.

The “last year” hangs in the air between them, but Mac doesn’t care to mention it. “Sure, buddy,” he says instead, then goes out and buys the best fucking stuff at the grocery store because he doesn’t care. Debt is debt is debt, and it’s Christmas.

It ends up being one of their better Christmases, and they even invite Charlie and Dee over to polish off the rest of their food. But Mac knows it’s just another Christmas they won’t talk about, because they can’t talk about it without mentioning the year before, and both of them would prefer to just forget the whole damn thing.

6.

After nearly ten years of living together, Mac and Dennis have accumulated a couple of Christmas traditions. Together they decorate the apartment and the tree with the few decorations they have, and every year they do it a little bit faster, leaving them more time to get wasted and admire their handiwork. Together they also attempt to cook a meal, although it usually devolves into Mac doing all the cooking while Dennis offers a couple of half-assed suggestions (Mac will admit that Dennis is pretty good about setting the table and running out to get whatever ingredient that Mac has forgotten, but that’s about all he’s good for).

But possibly their most meaningful tradition was sitting on the couch in front of the tv with a couple of beers and some popcorn and cycling through the old Reynold’s family Christmas tapes, with Dennis providing commentary and Mac interjecting at all the right places. They’d start watching them a week before Christmas and they’d get through a couple a day until either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day depending on how detailed Dennis’ commentary got (and that was entirely dependent on how Dennis felt about Dee that day- he could stretch videos out for hours bashing Dee.) They’d mouth along with the lines they had memorized, and Mac knew it was a little bit sad, but he’d loved those videos, loved getting a glimpse of what a normal Christmas was supposed to look like, even if every member of the family hated someone else at any given point.

But then Dennis’ mom died. Dennis’ mom died and the tapes sat on the floor of Dennis’ closet while they put up the rest of the decorations. Dennis had left the box behind and Mac hadn’t said anything, hadn’t known what to say, but had understood what Dennis was trying to say. This wasn’t going to be one of their traditions anymore. Dennis wasn’t going to let the stranger into his family’s Christmas anymore. 

(And hell if Mac doesn’t immediately feel bad for thinking that. He knows Dennis is going through a tough time, even if he won’t acknowledge it, and says a quick prayer for him.)

As the nights start passing and they get closer to Christmas, Dennis gets more and more moody. He moves through the apartment, restless, moving their shit around and then putting it back so often that Mac just settles for following him around with a rag so he can at least dust while everything’s out of the way. 

Finally Dennis settles on the couch, except he’s not exactly settled, he’s leaning forward, clasping his hands and tapping his feet. “There’s nothing to do here,” he complains.

“Well you better find something to do,” Mac says from the kitchen where he’s trying to find something for dinner, “because I’m getting tired of watching you move shit around our apartment, dude.”

Dennis’ head whips around towards Mac, and Mac settles in for the fight that’s sure to happen. “The fuck’s your problem, Mac?”

“I’m not the one with a fucking problem, Dennis,” Mac says, trying to be calm. “Look I know you don’t want to talk about things, but I can’t help you here unless you meet me half way.”

“What things are there to talk about?” Dennis asks, getting up to lean against their fridge so he can get in Mac’s face, crossing his arms. “What things, Mac? What did I do to piss you off this time?”

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Mac says, smacking his palm against the counter. “Like, I know you think my religion makes me repressed-”

“Like that’s why I think you’re repressed,” Dennis says, rolling his eyes.

Mac ignores that. “The point is that you never want to talk about the important shit with me, dude. Any time you have anything close to an emotion you just shut down, you fucking cyborg.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Dennis asks, exasperated. “I can’t think of anything I need to talk about.”

“Your mom died, Dennis!” Mac shouts, loud enough that he hears their asshole neighbors bang on the wall and Dennis flinches. “I know you’re refusing to mourn or whatever, but obviously it’s hitting you hard, and either you can fucking acknowledge that or you can go find something to do.”

Dennis is clenching his fists at his sides now, his eyes are squeezed shut. “Goddammit, Mac,” he says, hoarsely.

Mac prepares for the hit that never comes. Instead Dennis crosses the room and grabs his jacket from the couch, putting it on as he heads towards the door. Mac sighs. “Den, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever Mac,” Dennis says, opening the door. “I’m just going to find _something_ to do. Merry fucking Christmas, Mac,” he calls as he leaves, slamming the door.

Mac hears the implication loud and clear. That Dennis isn’t just going to find something to do, he’s going to find someone to do, and if he gets his way he’ll bring her back to their place so he can be as loud as he can to piss Mac off. Mac doesn’t want to think about how Dennis knows that that will get to Mac more than anything else. That Dennis’ punishment is fucking someone (else). 

So he resolves to pray about it later, but in the short term he does the only thing that he knows will comfort him. He goes into Dennis’ room, goes in Dennis’ closet (again, pray later) and grabs the first tape out of the box. Drags out their VHS player as well, hooks it up, and pops in the tape and settles down on the couch for the night. 

Watching the tape, Mac wishes that he knew Dennis then as a little smiley kid. Before they were both assholes, to everyone, to each other. Wonders how their lives would have turned out if they had known each other as kids. Maybe they’d both be a little better at this feelings thing. Maybe they’d still be assholes, but they’d be assholes that had known each other for an extra seven years.

Mac also thinks that maybe Dennis didn’t have that great of a childhood after all as he watches Barbara and Frank yell at each other for the second time. It’s different watching it without Dennis. He isn’t there to gloss over the worst parts and Mac finds himself drawn to how little Dennis and Dee are so used to it, how they act like they’re not even phased while they open their gifts. 

“That was a good Christmas.”

Mac turns around, looks at Dennis shuffling his feet at the door. “What happened? Couldn’t find anything to do?”

Dennis shakes his head and walks over to join Mac by the couch. “Forgot Dee had my car. I thought about walking, but wasn’t that into it.” 

Mac nods. “So what was so good about this Christmas?” He asks, sliding over to make room for Dennis on the couch. 

“Look at how much shit I got,” Dennis says, laughing. “Man, I used to be loaded.”

On screen Dennis is playing with a blue stuffed animal, too hard to tell what exactly with the grainy footage, surrounded by mounds of presents. His mom’s talking to Dee with Frank now out of the picture. He must be doing something else. Probably drinking.

“I got you a large, Deandra,” Barbara is saying, as Dee holds up a sweater that’s way too big for her bird-like frame, “and even then I’m not sure you’ll fit into it, look at you.”  
Dennis is fixated on the screen. “She wasn’t really that bad, you know? She was always nice to me, or she tried to be.”

“Do you want to talk about her?” Mac asks.

Dennis glances over like he knows what Mac is trying to do. “You were more intimately acquainted with her than I was.”

“C’mon man.”

Dennis sighs. “Sure, you know what, let’s talk about it.”

They talk about Dennis’ fucked up childhood all night, pausing only to switch out the tapes. The next day Dennis brings the tapes over the Dee’s. Tells Mac that she needs them more than him. Mac doubts that, but is willing to meet him half way.

Dennis starts asking about Mac’s childhood instead, and Mac finally understands why Dennis watched those videos every years, realizes that it feels good to get some of this stuff off his chest. 

They start a new tradition where they tell each other only the good memories from their Christmases after they’ve exhausted all their old material.

They don’t acknowledge that this means they don’t talk a lot about their shared Christmases. That’s okay. There’s a lot of Christmases from before they knew each other that they don’t talk about anymore, either.

7.2

Charlie and Dee leave soon after Dennis’ blow up, carefully one at a time to avoid the mistletoe. Dennis doesn’t say anything as they leave, although he pointedly scoffs when they don’t take it down with them as they go. Later when they’re settled on the couch he asks, “You know it doesn’t bother me, right?”

Mac sighs and pauses Rambo. “What doesn’t bother you, Dennis? Tell me.”

“The mistletoe,” Dennis says, like he didn’t catch Mac’s sarcasm, like it wasn’t obvious.

“Are you sure you wanna lock in that answer, Den?” Mac asks. “I’m starting to think it’s really bothering you.”

“Why would it bother me?” Dennis shouts. “I don’t have any-”

“Feelings, right,” Mac says. “Well, Dennis, I _feel_ like you do have _feelings_ and the mistletoe is making you _feel_ some sort of way, which would be impossible if you didn’t have _feelings_.”

Dennis clenches his fists. “I’m pretty angry right now, if it makes you happy,” he says, standing up.

Mac stands up as well, levels the field. “Are you feeling angry right now, Dennis? Are you feeling it?”

“I feel like,” Dennis says, backing up, “you’re starting something that you don’t know how to finish.”

Mac laughs. “Are you serious with me right now? You’re the king of leaving things unfinished around here.”

“Twenty years,” Dennis says. “Twenty years you’ve had a problem with me and you’re just now bringing it up?”

“Looks like I am.”

Dennis barks out a loud, ugly laugh. “Well you know what? Fine, Mac. I’ll give you what you want.” He strides over to their door and leans against it, his head brushing the mistletoe. “This is what you want, right? Well, Merry Christmas, Mac, come collect your gift.”

Mac walks over to Dennis so that Dennis can see his face and maybe have some idea of how crazy he’s being. “This isn’t what I want,” Mac says. 

“So what do you want?” Dennis asks, his head leaning against the door, and closes his eyes. 

“To talk about it,” Mac says. “All of it.”

“But what,” Dennis asks, “if this is what I want?”

Mac has never prepared for this outcome. Has prepared to be laughed at, spat on, kicked out. He takes two steps forward, leans himself against Dennis’ body and Dennis’ eyelids flutter open like he’s surprised, maybe like Mac called his bluff or maybe like he’s pleased but it’s too late either way because Mac is going for it. Mac leans in-

1.2

-and closes the gap. 

He should push Dennis away. He should leave and go home and spend another terrible Christmas with his mother. But.

But Dennis is warm and steady against his body, keeping him pinned against Dennis’ door. His hands are tangled in Mac’s hair and his knee is in between Mac’s legs. Dennis is kissing him. Dennis is _making out with him _. Dennis’ tongue is licking at his lips and then in his mouth and then his teeth are knocking against Mac’s. Scraping. There’s the taste of copper on the tip of Mac’s tongue and Mac is still not kissing Dennis back.__

__Dennis must mistake Mac’s confusion for disinterest because he pulls away (Mac misses him immediately) and takes a step back, keeping his hands at the back of Mac’s neck, leaving bruises that Mac will find the next morning. He’s breathing loudly, and he’s staring at Mac but not quite, won’t look him in the eyes. There’s so much Mac wants to say, wants to-_ _

__“Do something,” Dennis orders. Dennis pleads. Dennis is weak, and Mac hates weakness, but loves the way it wears on Dennis’ face._ _

__Mac leans in and presses his lips against Dennis’. Brings his hands up to cup the sides of Dennis’ face. Closes his eyes when Dennis does. He’d thought about kissing Dennis before, way back when Dennis first bought weed off him, when he’d thought it was the waning high that made him want to reach out and touch the other boy. It’s not like that at all- Dennis isn’t glowing, for one. But mostly, Dennis is softer than he thought he would be, less angular up close. The pads of his thumbs press into soft skin, even Dennis’ eyelashes flutter softly against Mac’s face. The lips too, those are incredibly soft. Mac wants to touch more; he wants to see if the rest of Dennis is just as soft._ _

__Banging at the door causes Dennis to jump away. “You boners just about done in there?” Dee yells. She knocks a few more times, and Mac feels it in his back all along where he’s leaning as he tries to catch his breath._ _

__“Just a second!” Dennis yells, and the banging stops. He sweeps his eyes up and down Mac’s body. “You’ve got a little- come and let me fix your collar,” he says to Mac, gesturing. When Mac follows, Dennis tries his best to straighten Mac’s sweater, even though the left side won’t quite lay flat. “Good enough,” Dennis sighs, and opens the door so Dee can come in._ _

__“If we ever do this again,” Dee whines, pulling Charlie by the hand in behind her, “you are in charge of Charlie. I swear to God Dennis, it was nearly impossible to-“she pauses, blinks at Dennis as if she only just noticed him. “You okay? You look a bit sick.”_ _

__“I’m fine, Dee.”_ _

__“Are you sure?” she asks. “You’re sweating. What were you guys doing? Some sort of exercise?”_ _

__“Lifting,” Mac says. “Had to take all the boxes down from Dennis’ closet to find me a shirt.”_ _

__Dee looks at him, squints. “I think there must be a flu going around, actually. I think Mac’s got the same thing you got.”_ _

__“She’s right Mac, you look ill,” Charlie pipes up. He’s already sweating through his button-up shirt, but at least Dee picked a dark enough shirt that it’s harder to tell. “C’mon you guys, you can’t be sick. You can’t leave me with _Dee_.”_ _

__“Nobody will be leaving anybody with anybody,” Dennis says as Dee scoffs, putting up his hands. “We’re all going to walk downstairs and wait for Frank and Barbara to get home, alright? And then Mac and Charlie are going to sneak out the back door and come around to knock at the front door. The plan has not changed in any way, Charlie. Now let’s go.”_ _

__Charlie leaves the room first, nudging a few of the ornaments he must have put on Dee’s brace as he goes. Dee follows shortly after, still attached to Charlie by the hand. She watches them the entire time as she leaves, her head tilted slightly to the side, considering._ _

__Mac listens until he hears two sets of heavy footsteps clunking down the stairs before saying, “Dee knows, man.”_ _

__Dennis hums noncommittally. “Maybe,” he says, pushing Mac towards the door. “Maybe not.” Dennis pecks him on the lips, quickly, when they’re in the door frame. “Merry Christmas, Mac.”_ _

__Dennis starts dating Maureen right after Christmas break._ _

__Mac tries not to think about it too much._ _

__7.3_ _

__-and closes the gap._ _

__Kissing Dennis now is (understandably) different than kissing Dennis at fifteen. They’re both a little more practiced for one thing, and their teeth don’t knock together this time. Mac is more in charge this time too, he’s the one pressing Dennis up against the door and sliding his leg in between Dennis’. But._ _

__But a lot of it is so similar that they might as well be fifteen again, with Dennis’ hands in his hair and around his neck digging hard enough to bruise. Mac’s hands are at Dennis’ face again and Dennis is just as surprisingly soft as he was the last time. His eyelashes brush against Mac’s face and the angle is still a little wrong but they’re sticking with it now. And again, it’s over before Mac wants it to end._ _

__Dennis pulls away again this time, flushed and a little out of breath. “Do you remember when I kissed that girl under the mistletoe in college?”_ _

__Mac doesn’t really, knows that Dennis doesn’t really either. “Sure,” he says, humoring him._ _

__Dennis is quiet when he says, “Do you remember how I wished it was you?”_ _

__All Mac can do is laugh. “I don’t think you remembered to tell me that part.”_ _

__“Might’ve left out a couple of details.”_ _

__“Might’ve done, yeah. And while we’re talking about details that we left out, I should probably mention that I kept your blue sweater,” Mac admits._ _

__Dennis smiles. “’Hmm, yeah? Still got it? Should wear it more often, it looks good on you.”_ _

__“Could put it on for you now, if you’d like,” Mac says, hell, he’s flirting with Dennis. Why not._ _

__“Mac,” Dennis says, leaning close to his ear so he can whisper, “right now I don’t want you to have anything on.”_ _

__7.4_ _

__Here’s the thing: they don’t talk about this Christmas either._ _

__Here’s the thing: that doesn’t mean nothing has changed. Mac sometimes still catches Dennis looking at his lips during a conversation, and he’s man enough to admit that he’ll lick his lips just to throw Dennis off. Mac still prays as often as he did before, but now he prays for acceptance instead of forgiveness, even if he forgets to do the same with others._ _

__(Amen)._ _

__Maybe one day they’ll get to the point where they can talk about it, Mac and Dennis. But for now, Mac is okay with being strung along with Dennis’ stupid plans and stringing Dennis along for a few of his own._ _

__They’ll get there eventually._ _


End file.
